warm and oppressive languor

Gabriel García Márquez's novels are a better introduction to Cartagena than any travel guide.

The city is hot and humid and mashes everyday people and a few blemishes of commercial tourism on top of a gracefully decaying infrastricture. Depending on where you are, locals are more apt to sit on their patios or in the street cooling off rather than sell you things. I still can't believe they managed to fit one of those ubiquitous red tour buses in Cartagena's narrow streets.

We arrived in Cartagena on Friday night and their appeared to be some sort of concert/rally going on in front of the clock tower. Historically the clock tower was the main entrance to Cartagena, but some walls were broken down so that the city could be expanded to include the not-as-nice neighborhood Getsemani ( after all, when travel guides say "bohemian," they mean dirty.)

Even though I had no idea what was going on, it was nice to see all the kids out enjoying Friday night.

all I ever wanted

As I lay my weary head and mosquito-bitten body to rest on my last night on Cartagena, thoughts turn to a grand reflection of the past 10 days.

I have persevered a terrible flight detour without shedding a tear. I have proved to some entity that I am not too unfit to scale the 740 steps of Guatapé or hike for an hour under the scorching sun and heavy humidity of Tayrona National Park - both with an ailing right foot. I have floated in mud, danced the night away in a salsa club, and dared to walk into Pablo Escobar's bookcase.

Don't get me wrong, the guide for the Intrepid itinerary is fantastic. I truly hope to keep in touch with her and cheer her on through the next chapter in her young and beautiful life. But when I came to Colombia, I couldn't help but want a little of that stereotypical barrio-esque life that I had the pleasure of sampling in Peru.

Enter the southern Getsemani district in Cartagena de las Indias.

Having been released from the constant "consensus" of the group, I ventured on my own into parts of the city that our guide had not shown us. Usually this brings me to an unsavory area, like when I wandered into the prosty hangout when I wondered what was west of Las Ramblas in Barcelona.

It was a Sunday so many shops and restaurants were closed in Cartagena. But while the touristy areas were dead, Getsemani - a city extension that was historically the neighborhood of slaves - refused to sleep. I wandered around the southern wall and wove my way through the streets filled with dogs barking and with reggaeton music blaring from stereos on the street. I actually heard Lucenzo's and Don Omar's "Danza Kuduro" on Calle del Espiritu Santo... that is my most played song in my music library and I had to wait until my last day in Colombia to hear it!

I found my way to la Plazuela de Santísima Trinidad, which was already full of people. The faithful sat in evening mass in a small church while children playing with small and probably illegal firecrackers did their best to interrupt the service. The little square was so full of life compared to the rest of sleepy Cartagena and I loved every bit about it.

I even loved it when I tried to order an epic-looking chorizo dog and the lady made a face when I didn't understand her. Finally! After hearing from almost every Colombia that I speak Spanish well, the food cart lady reminded me that I am not as eloquent en castellano as I thought.

After apogizing for my inability to order a simple chorizo dog in Spanish (only 5,500CP / just over $3) and picking up Aguila beer at a corner market (1800CP / barely over $1,) I watched as the children in the square gave way to a free aerobics class. I kid you not, three not-very-Colombian-looking ladies led an ever-growing mass of people through a tai bo dance workout. It was like something out of Turbo Jam but with more bootyshaking, and all were welcome. Locals mixed with hippies mixed with young expats mixed with women in party clothes mixed with women in workout clothes mixed with a few men mixed with some of the children, and all were partying down.

I left at the early hour of 9PM to prepare my duffel bag and nervously check my flight status every hour. Neither the plaza nor the streets of Getsemani showed any signs of slowing down, and my only regret is that I didn't find la Plazuela any sooner.

my favorite snack

I love empanadas. This was my breakfast for most of the trip.

In Medellín, I treated myself to a large beef-and-potato-filled empanada as well as a chicken and mushroom pastry, all for about $4.

Pueblo de Zócalos

Back at the foot of Guatapé lies the charming town of Old Peñon. This town is such a technicolor dream it's as if the place was made for me!

my first mudbath

In the volcano just outside of Cartagena...

I didn't smell the sulphur until after we reboarded the bus.

back at the lodge

Swimming in Tayrona's beaches was exhilarating. Sleeping in a hammock, however, is not as fun as it sounds. Oh sure, a nap in a hammock is nice but trying to get a solid 6 hoirs of sleep isn't so fun. It didn't help that the netting around the hammock failed to make it mosquito-proof.

However, the lodge did have a really cute puppy and kitty. The puppy was so little that it used a rock as a half step to jump up two stairs. The jungle kitty was skinny but adorable and quite the little huntress! She led me to a frog and ate a few insects. But most of all, she enjoyed the belly scratches I gave her.

Hiking to and from Tayrona was hard work for me but the views, the sun, and the sand were worth all the jungle penance I paid.

the other cabo

Getting to Tayrona National Park is murder. After hiking up and down mountains on a crippled foot (but I love high heels!) I wasn't so sure that the jungle-meets-beach phenomenon would be worth it.

Thankfully, Tayrona lived up to all of the hype.

Here I am in Cabo, one of the safe places to swim in the Caribbean Sea. There are beautiful beaches closer to the campsite but the currents are strong there and have claimed over 100 lives as recorded by the park. So instead, we hiked for anofher hour to La Piscina and El Cabo, just two of the places where the rocks naturally break the waves.

I loved both places, as well as Arenilla Beach (right next to La Piscina.) I especially enjoyed the rocks at El Cabo, which in my fantastic imagination look like a bear and his fish friend jumping ouf of the water.

Oh, and somehow I managed to gef sunburnt even though I stayed under the shade of several trees all day.

Guatapé

On Tuesday we took a daytrip to the town of Peñon, ninety minutes by van from Medellín. The main attraction is Guatapé, a huge monolith rising oit of the flooded valley. I still can't believe I scaled all 740 steps but my sunburn and my sore calf muscles are my battle scars.

Visiting the notorious

Yesteday we embarked on the optional Pablo Escobar tour. The drug kingpin called Medellín home and divided the people: he gave homes to the poorest people fhat the government neglected but killed thousands of Colombians and left a lasting legacy of a sullied Colombian reputation. The tour certainly didn't change history or anyone's opinion of him but showed us some information we didn't know.

Since Pablo is long gone, our visit to the Dallas building and Pablo's grave ended with a meet & greet of Roberto, Pablo's brother and accountant. Roberto had quite an impressive cycling legacy before the drugs came and promised to take me on an alien spaceship. Because he was never found guilty of killing anyone or ordering any kills, he served just 11 years in prison and 2 under house arrest.

All in all, the optional tour was not as enlightening as it was uncomfortable. Besides shaking hands with a mob CFO, the tour guide Natalia and the two drivers claimed that three of us did not pay for the tour. I was sure that I had to jump out of the van but no such action was required. Instead, we told our sweet Intrepid guide Johany, who said we did the right thing and promised to not recommend the tour anymore.

perro de Botero

Checking out the awesome Botero sculptures in Medellín... this is one plump dog!

I'll explain later

I love to lunch

We stopped by Río Magdalena for lunch and got these fantastic lunch plates. Mine is lomo, or mesquite-style grilled chicken. I know lomo (saltado) is that fantastic beef and potatoes dish in Peru but I guess it means something else here. Anyways, the lunch plate and my maracuyá juice drink was 16,000 pesos, or just under $10.

Only 5 more hours until we arrive in Medellín!

del campo

As we drive throigh the countryside we are treated to slme idyllic scenes of la vida del campo... Just outside of the town Faca I saw cows and chickens grazing by the well-maintained highway. We are currently winding our way xown a hill.

The roads here are fantastic. Contrary to Peru's dirt and gravel roads riddled with speed bumps, these Colombian highways are smoothly paved asphalt with all the yellow and white lines I'm used to. Honestly, it looks better than some highways back home.

On the bus

She's not large enouh to really obstruct the driver's view. And she lights up in blue!

Back in the saddle

I made it, I've finally made it! I am in Colombia and right now I am with my tour group, enjoying wi-fi on a bus to Medellín while snacking on a porky sandwich and a fantastic blackberry-flavored drink.

I only saw Bogotá through my taxi window but it is beautiful. There are so many parks and trees and people are up at 7:30 AM in the morning practicing tae kwon do outdoors. I must see more of Bogotá but that will have to wait.

I hope there are more wi-fi spots in my future!

it's a gray day in JFK

Due to a delay in my SFO to FTL flight, I was not going to make my original Bogota connection. So Jetblue offered an alternate itinerary through JFK and ORL that would set me back 10 hours instead of 24.

Perhaps because I complained so much about the new accommodation in Bogotá it is ironically fitting that I miss the walking tour of the capital city. I've made peace with that. I'll be happy if I arrive in Bogotá without any more delays so I don't miss my tour.

never sat in the emergency exit row before

My small prize for my detoured flight to Bogota...

m is for manatees

One of the shortest but most memorable stops was the manatee sanctuary! These river manatees emit the same peaceful and lovable aura as their seaworthy counterparts, which has successfully prompted the creation of a sanctuary such as this.

Pame and I got to pet the manatees! They're not quite rubbery, though their skin is firm and not as smooth as you'd think.

Hello!

We were lucky enough to arrive right before feeding time. This baby manatee gets the royal treatment from a manatee expert.

I almost didn't get to see the manatees as a security guard demanded I show my passport, which I had left in my room. Luckily I have my passport number memorized and he accepted that and my CA ID. So bring your passports!

floating city

In the huge street market we were approached by a man who offered to take us on yet another boat tour of "the Venice of Peru." I am always inclined to turn down solicitors but Pame wanted to go so we went. Here follows the optional (not included in our original tour) boat ride into Belen.

And let me tell you, "Venice of Peru" is a pretty name for the poorest district of Iquitos. This is where the road turns into a canal of sorts...

They take their nickname seriously in Belen. Apparently the street/canal we are on is Venecia Way...

One of the busier avenues...

One of the houses had a few, er, frescoes showing more people on boats. And a caiman. Oh gawd, please don't let a caiman attack us here.

All roads lead to this wide waterway, which appears to be the main drag of Belen.

The building with the fenced patio is Belen's discotech!

The long elevated structure is the district school.

Houses in Belen vary from simple one-story bungalows to this two-story structure with a "garage."

Despite the poverty and pollution, Belen appears quite peaceful.

This should be higher up!

Kids playing in the river... it seemed nice until our Belen guide told us that the toilets dump directly into the river. Ewww.

A gas station for the motorboats.

From the main waterway looking into one of the avenues.

Returning to Iquitos and dry land.

Our boat ride was just one hour but the short time we spent in Belen was eye-opening. When people fly into Iquitos, they come to see the jungle, whether it be the land, the animals, or the people of a tribu. Tourists stay within the cozy confines of the city center and almost never venture to Belen... I'd never even heard of it until this man approached us in the market. I enjoyed our tour of Belen because it reminded me that Iquitos is not just a jumping-off point for jungle expeditions. It's a real city with real problems and real people who work out solutions that work for them. It's easy to fall into the trap of believing that these places exist only to serve our sightseeing desires, and Belen is a good wake-up call.